


Save the Date

by fyredancer



Category: Tokio Hotel
Genre: Crack, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Twincest, ooc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-18
Updated: 2013-02-18
Packaged: 2017-11-29 16:14:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/688912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fyredancer/pseuds/fyredancer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bill's got plans for their twenty-first birthday, BIG CINEMA plans, and nothing is stopping him - not legal technicalities, morals, or the laws of physics.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Save the Date

**Author's Note:**

> For the Kaulitz twins, on their ~~nuptials~~ 21st birthday. Mazel tov!

"So what do you think?" Bill preened, fluttering the tips of his fingers together in an excess of glee.

Georg stared at him. Gustav kept playing his Nintendo DS. Tom licked his lips and kept his head down; Bill had bought him off with the promise of strippers.

"Okay, you know you can't do this, right?" Georg said at last, breaking the oddly prolonged silence. "It's illegal."

Bill flicked an immaculately manicured hand. "I'm Bill Kaulitz; I can do anything. Was it illegal when I slipped Viagra in Tom's drink to make sure he could go all night? Yes, but you don't see him complaining!"

"Um," Gustav spoke up, but said nothing more when Bill swiveled a glare on him sharp enough to bevel diamonds.

Tom grinned sheepishly at the wall behind Bill, not quite meeting his eyes. "That was awesome, that night on Viagra," he commented to no one in particular. "I thought I was seeing double."

"Which is why that Bild reporter thought it was a pair of Taiwanese hookers when he heard Tom talking about it, but I'm much more limber," Bill added smugly. "So, are you with me?"

"I don't know if my girlfriend will let me," Georg hedged.

Bill gave him a scornful glare while Tom reached out to backhand Georg's thigh. "Come on, are you a real man or are you tied to your girlfriend's apron strings?"

"I'm a real man who wants to continue getting laid," Georg replied.

Bill sniffed. "Well, keep your passport handy and your travel plans open. I intend for Tom and me to have the most amazing birthday celebration yet. What better way to do it than to have a blowout Vegas wedding?"

"Bill, I don't think they'll let you--" Gustav tried applying reason.

"Did they question Dennis Rodman when he presented himself in full wedding regalia and sneakers when he showed up to marry himself?" Bill demanded. "No, they didn't! Everyone thought it was a publicity stunt. It's the perfect disguise, hiding in plain sight."

"Who are you going to bribe to pronounce your vows?" Georg wanted to know, leaning forward over his knees.

"Andreas, of course!" Bill exclaimed, clapping his hands.

"Hasn't he been in love with you for years?" Georg said with a frown. "How on earth did you get him to agree to that?"

"I told him he could touch my penis," Bill said, and snickered.

"It was a lie, of course," Tom added swiftly, proprietary over that appendage.

They both laughed and Gustav shifted further away. "I think I have plans that day," he muttered. "Birthday plans."

Bill regarded him as though this were some kind of sacrilege. "It is Tom's and my birthday," he reminded their bandmate pointedly. "No one cares about yours. I've been building up to this for years. First the meaningful looks, then the love songs, then the declarations of togetherness in public, then Tom admitting we're soulmates and we'll be together the rest of our lives - now I've got to nail it down for good in the culmination of the ultimate expression of our love."

"Sex in public?" Tom suggested.

"Marriage!" Bill exclaimed, aghast. "You're such a barbarian, Tom. If you weren't the other half of my sublimely perfect egg I'm not sure how I'd put up with you."

"I'm sure all of the sex helps to smooth the way," Tom said, and got up, stretching his gangling arms over his head. "I've got to go have a pre-coital smoke, guys, so that's your cue to clear out by the time I get back."

Gustav groaned, flipped his Gameboy shut, and stalked out of the studio rec room without another word.

"He'll be there," Bill predicted. "And you, Georg?"

"I have a list of things to do, all of them more important than watching the two of you screw around and send our career into the toilet," Georg replied, and left, shaking his head.

"That's an RSVP for two," Bill said complacently. "I'll send the invitations to his girlfriend." He flipped his planner shut and hurried after Tom. A cigarette didn't taste as good to him unless Tom lit it for him.

* * *

"We're getting married," Bill told their mother without preamble once he'd seated himself at the aging kitchen table, the side that still had B + T carved on the side in the middle of a wobbly heart. He deposited his wavy-haired dackel onto the tile of his mother's kitchen and held out an eager hand for the coffee that she placed before him.

"Did he fight the hook?" Simone asked shrewdly.

"He either thinks it's an elaborate birthday gag or he's too blissed out by all the downtime sex," Bill said, waving a hand in a dismissively peremptory gesture. "Also I told him it would be great for publicity!"

Simone cupped her tea in both hands and grinned, clearly unconcerned about the deception of her eldest and the violation of a sacrament by at least two counts. "And he bought it?"

"Tomi loves me best," Bill said with serene assurance. "In the end, that's what's getting him to the altar."

"And the begging, whining, fake tears, blackmail, and bribery have nothing to do with that," Simone said.

"Mom!" Bill exclaimed, indignant. "I do not beg! Not even in bed!"

"Bill!" Simone shielded her face with a hand. "That's too much information for your mother, too much! As far as I am concerned, you're asexual and Tom uses his left hand."

"Why the left?" Bill wondered, confused.

"Well that's the one he sprained, isn't it?" Simone wanted to know.

Bill snickered. "Well, yes, but..." He shut up, recalling her admonition at the last second. He didn't want Simone to inflict him with any retaliatory details of her own sex life.

"Tell me all about the wedding, Billy," Simone invited, hitching closer to the table and giving him starry eyes.

"You just had a wedding," Bill reminded her. He ought to know; he'd paid for it. Well, Tom had actually written the check, and bitched about it for months before and after. That had required application of a technique Bill liked to call 'the whirling vortex' and he'd thought of patenting it if it weren't so naughty he couldn't afford to attach his name to it. He thought they'd owed their mother after she'd put up with all the harassment from those nasty bitches trying to expose Tom and Bill's illicit love to her.

They'd showed the crazy bitches; their Mom already knew.

"A woman can never get enough of weddings," Simone said wisely. "Especially ones that aren't hers."

"That doesn't make any sense," Bill replied, giving her a frown.

"Oh, you'll see," Simone promised.

"Mom," Bill half-whined, though he'd deny such a noise ever crossed his lips. "I am not a woman, we've been through this."

"Shush," Simone said. "I've made skirts for you."

"That was the one time, and it was a _kilt_ ," Bill said haughtily. He held in the feedback she really wouldn't want; Tom wasn't the only one in their relationship with a penis and the willingness to use it.

"Am I making your wedding dress, then?" Simone inquired with interest.

"Suit," Bill corrected. "I'm getting married in a suit. With tails."

"Whatever," Simone said. "Just let me know when to schedule the bridal shower. I know you've got that tour in Asia coming up."

Bill bit his lip over an angry _Tom's the bride!_ because his mum would know otherwise anyhow; she always did.

* * *

"This is great," David said, gesturing with his fork. "Fantastic news."

"Really?" Bill said worriedly, pushing his gigantic Caesar salad around his plate to make it appear as though he'd eaten more. The sickening stench of burnt flesh coming from the other dishes at the table was putting him off his meal. Thank god for good room service. "I delayed telling you because I was sure you'd tell me it was bad publicity."

"Bill," David said very seriously, looking him straight in the eye. "I'm disappointed in you."

Bill's heart thudded down into the leafy undigested greens stewing in his stomach.

"There is _no such thing_ as bad publicity," David summed up, giving Bill a small headshake. "I thought you'd learned that so well, with all the crazy shenanigans you've pulled over the years. Those honeymoon pics in the Maldives from earlier this year..."

"Oh, yeah, that was great," Bill said, ducking his head with a grin. He had to bite his lip over a particularly heated reminiscence. "We weren't even married yet." He pressed his thighs together; he was really missing Tom, who was all the way back in Germany finishing up his Reebok work, otherwise they'd be together finalizing arrangements in L.A.

"They were perfect," David said, looking over at Natalie as though for corroboration. Bill's favorite fag hag gave them an enthusiastic little nod before applying herself to her grilled eggplant. "Just romantic enough for the incest-loving weirdos, with enough bare skin for either of the deluded camps who think they could get with either of you to fixate on that instead of the way you're looking at each other."

Bill blotted his mouth with a napkin to hide the snort.

"Does that make me an incest-loving weirdo?" Natalie questioned, appearing worried.

"Of course it does," David said, petting her shoulder.

Bill rolled his eyes. "I told you, Natalie, thanks for offering – again – but we don't need a spotter during sex." She had an unhealthy interest in his sex life for someone who was married, herself. Her latest transparent question had been whether they did BDSM and did they need any 'assistance.'

"Plausible deniability," David said with a nod, cutting into his steak again with such vigor it made Bill shudder.

It was especially distressing to Bill because he was fairly sure that the thing was still _mooing._ That was blood on the plate for sure, though, and it was making him feel faint.

"So the wedding is on?" Bill checked.

"Yeah, I thought we came here to organize a birthday celebration, but we can manage a wedding," David agreed. "You only wanted a Vegas quickie, right?"

Bill widened his eyes.

"For the ceremony," David clarified.

"Oh," Bill said, and laughed at that. "Yes, with all our friends and family."

"That's a nice short list," David replied. "Very do-able."

"Are you saying I'm a recluse?" Bill asked, suspicious.

"You're whatever you want to be, baby," David said at once. "You're a rock star."

"Damn straight," Bill said, sitting back and basking. He was unaccustomed to anyone but Tom disagreeing with him at this point, and he was so used to ignoring Tom that his twin might as well be mute unless he was screaming Bill's name whilst fucking.

"So, I'll arrange for the security you'll need, and keep the press contained to some kind of post-birthday thanks for all the well-wishes..." David began to natter on.

Bill tuned him out. The only details he needed to focus on from this point were finessing Tom up the altar without the use of a hog-tie, and coordinating his hair, make-up and nails for the gorgeous tux he was going to wear on one of the most important days of his life that didn't involve shattering records and winning awards.

"Natalie," Bill said, tapping his fingernails over the impeccable tablecloth and once more trying to ignore the ghastly sight of David eating that bleeding hunk of cow. "Want to go shopping?"

Natalie's face lit up as excited as though he'd propositioned her for sex.

* * *

"You're such a dick," Bill whined, slugging back his vodka-and-Red Bull faster in hopes that someone would replace it fast and get him drunk enough to pass out. He glanced sidelong at Andreas, who was leaning forward a bit _too_ eagerly, and cradled his drink to his chest.

If he puked on anyone's shoes tonight, he was puking on _Tom's_ before he got dragged home in a drunken stupor, so Andreas was out of luck.

"You like my dick," Tom rejoined, his expression patient. "You _promised_ , Bill."

"I said you could have a party with strippers!" Bill exclaimed. "Not that I had to _be_ there... Stupid bachelor party, I hate it." He shuddered and looked away as one of the girls gyrated close enough to him to swing her loosely-bound breasts in his face. It looked sweaty and possibly unhygienic, and she'd obviously used some kind of body spray that was applied in clumps and patches over her tanned expanses of skin.

"It's your bachelor party too, spoil sport," Georg said, genial as he squeezed past Bill with a bottle of beer for himself and another Red Bull for Bill. "Quit your bitching, it's your last night as a free man."

"But nobody thought to get male strippers!" Bill complained.

"Gross," Tom said, his eyes fixed on the two girls, brunette and redhead, who were gyrating on the couch wearing golden bikini bottoms and nothing else, and making out with lots of tongue.

"Ew, that's sick," Georg contributed, watching the third stripper, who had given up on Bill and was waggling her waxed thong-decorated ass in Gustav's oblivious face.

"Gay," Andreas added.

"I am gay!" Bill said, straightening his spine to maximum offended height and swatting at Andreas' wandering hand as it crept over one thigh. "Gustav, if you're not going to tip the stripper, let her show Georg the love."

Gustav mumbled something and didn't bother lifting his eyes from whatever Nintendo production was currently riveting his attention.

"Oh, I shouldn't," Georg began.

"What happens in Vegas never happened," Andreas said wisely, as Georg gazed with longing at the stripper's near-naked bottom. Only the tiniest of fabric triangles was protecting Bill's eyes.

"No, that's not right," Tom replied. "It's what goes in Vegas, stays in Vegas."

"If you want to _come_ in Vegas, you'll keep your hands to yourself," Bill stated direly as Tom began to lift a hand.

"I was only going to tip her," Tom said, defensive as he hitched up in his seat, adjusting his pants. "Or, um, applaud. Because they deserve it!"

"For putting up with you," Bill said, standing with dainty precision and making sure to not slosh his drink. "Forget this, I'm going to Cirque du Soleil. They have a naughty show down the street."

"You'll never get tickets," Tom said, still watching the two girls make out.

"Already got them," Bill replied, and wrinkled his nose at Andreas as his friend moved to get up out of his seat. "No, you stay here – you have to make sure Tom keeps it in his pants."

"What do I get out of it?" Andreas complained.

Bill jabbed a nail at the girls. "You get to keep watching them?" When Andreas continued to appear sulky, he sighed and said, "Fine, you get to touch my cock _and_ balls." _Now who's the gay one?_ he most pointedly did not say, but liked to think his thoughts were so loud the entire room heard it crystal-clear.

Tom waved his fingers in Bill's general direction, thereby ensuring he'd never get to see another bare tit in person in his life. No, not even if they ended up siring children somehow and needed to hire a wet-nurse.

* * *

The stage was set. The chapel was cleared. The security team was on high alert. Cameras and cell phones had been confiscated, and every single person wanded and patted down. Unsurprisingly, Natalie had attempted to sneak a camera into the chapel claiming it was 'her underwire.'

Bill was _not_ wearing white, because that was so tacky. He'd gotten rid of his cherry years ago and besides, he was a boy, not a bride.

The first couple of pews were loaded with parents, management, and bandmates. As Bill pinned on his boutonniere, he cast a critical eye over the chapel they had commandeered for the hour. Tom was standing at the altar with a spooked deer sort of expression. Bill rubbed his hands together eagerly, knowing all the exits were blocked by their security staff, and he'd tipped them extra to make sure Tom didn't do a runner.

"I thought the point of all this spectacle was to get the band some press?" David wanted to know.

"That is the reason I gave everyone in order to plausibly get Tom to this point," Bill stage-whispered. "Tell them to kick off that cheesy organ-grinder; I want to get this over with and have my legs in the air by midnight."

David blanched. "I'll just..." he began, cut himself off with a gulp, and scarpered up the aisle.

Bill beamed as he walked himself up the aisle to where Tom was waiting for him. His father had volunteered to escort him, once again forgetting that Bill was not a girl. Bill had this. He'd been planning this for a whole year, ever since their mom had finally dragged Gordon screaming to the altar. He swelled up with pride as he approached Tom, who was fixed in place fit to be mounted next to Bill's statue at Madame Tussaud's, eyes acquiring that same sort of glassy stare.

Andreas began the vows that Bill had so lovingly prepared. "Dearly beloved, we are gathered here to celebrate the birthday and forever-binding of these twins..."

Bill tuned him out and admired Tom, who hadn't made the concession of a tux but had donned one of the sexy form-fitting sweaters he'd taken to wearing in order to display his developed physique. He'd already gone over the vows backward and forward; he knew them by heart, and this left Bill ample time to watch Tom's minutest shifts of expression, every nervous lip-flick and flutter of sinfully thick lashes. Words couldn't possibly bind them together any closer than they already were, but Bill enjoyed the added symbolism.

"Tom," Bill whispered, as Andreas maundered on.

Tom blinked at him. "Yeah, Bill."

"Did I force you into this?" Bill whispered.

Tom blinked again, his eyes darting from the audience at his left to Andreas, makeshift minister, at his right. "Bill...you are aware we're in the middle of the ceremony?"

"I just want to make sure," Bill whispered.

"Bill," Tom said, his expression mixing patience with exasperation. "I do know how to tell you 'no.'"

"Are you sure?" Bill returned, genuinely surprised.

Tom merely raised a brow. That small shift in expression told Bill everything he needed to be assured of. Tom wouldn't be here if he didn't want to be.

He had his hands clasped before him, not fidgeting in the least, and once more Bill was so proud of his handsome twin he wanted to burst. Or rip his clothes off right there.

There was a long pause during which Bill at last realized Andreas was waiting for them to say something.

"Well, will you?" Andreas prompted again.

"I will!" Tom said firmly, meeting Bill's eyes with a steadfastness that caused Bill's internal bits to jellify.

"And Bill, will you..." Andreas began the spiel all over again.

"Oh, I will," Bill interrupted with a purr. A ripple of laughter moved through the first few pews and Tom flashed him a boyish grin.

"By the power vested in me by the internet and a large bribe to the State of Nevada, I now pronounce you twin-spouse and twin-spouse," Andreas proclaimed. "You may now—god, Bill, try to leave him with some lips when you're done, will you?"

Bill ignored Andreas and wound his arms tighter around his twin, hooking him in place and getting himself some leverage with a leg thrown over one hip.

There were no camera flashes, but there was more than one cat-call. Bill was a bit disappointed no one told them to get a room, as he had the perfect rejoinder – they had one reserved upstairs.

In order to get there, of course, they'd have to suffer through a round of canapes and cocktails paired with veiled innuendo and small talk. Bill could put up with it so long as Tom remained glued to his hip like this, and at least industry schmoozing wasn't involved. It was their special day, after all.

And neatly enough, he'd never have to worry about Tom forgetting their anniversary.

* * *

After socializing with their parents; commiserating with Georg, whose girlfriend had found out about the strippers; getting a genuine congratulations from Gustav; and avoiding Andreas' attempts to touch his penis, Bill was able to drag his twin (and spouse; he had that figurative ring in Tom's nose now) up to their gigantic, insanely expensive suite for a prolonged snogging session. Some thoughtful soul had left them champagne and raspberries that they ignored in favor of getting naked.

"You are so getting some tonight," Bill gasped, as Tom groped his ass and nibbled a hot trail down his neck from ear to collarbone.

"Because you love me?" Tom ventured, grinding against him just the way Bill liked, the right amount of pressure, the groove between hip and groin.

"Because the size of the ring you got me really turns me on," Bill breathed, writhing against his twin.

"Ah," Tom said, palming his butt with greater pressure and rocking them together where they stood.

"Bed," Bill urged, because he didn't want to do the first time standing up.

"Mmmf," Tom agreed, rubbing against him as he walked Bill backwards toward the immense bed that was visible through the double doors to the right side of the suite.

They were stripped, touching nakedly, and sex was imminent when Tom's phone rang.

"Ignore it or I'm not going down," Bill gasped, licking a wet path from sternum to navel.

"It's Universal," Tom protested, groping for the pants that had gotten flung partly off the nightstand.

"You gave management at Universal their own ringtone?" Bill wondered, pulling his mouth off Tom's abs with a disgruntled smack.

Tom shrugged. "You assigned Britney Spears to Jost," he replied.

Bill glared up at his twin as Tom picked up the call. Denial of marital relations in three, two, one...

"Holy shit, she did?" Tom yelped, dislodging Bill from his thighs.

Bill sat up with a grunt, wondering idly if he was going to let Andreas touch his dick, after all.

Tom winced, babbled something distressed into the phone, and tossed phone and pants over the edge of the bed. "Well, fuck. That's a hell of a 'birthday' gift."

"What," Bill prompted without enthusiasm.

"The winner of the Reebok contest," Tom grunted, reaching out to caress Bill's hair – or grip it and encourage him 'down.' Bill scooted out of range. "It's Vanessa. You know, 'Tokio' Vanessa..."

"How the fuck--"

"Apparently she bought out most of the promotional stock and intimidated everyone else?"

"Ugh," Bill said, rolling over and grabbing the remote control for the gigantic flatscreen fixed to the wall of the master bedroom. "I have a headache. And guess who's sleeping alone on the tour bus, Mister I Wanted My Own Endorsement?"

"Tom?" Tom said, with a grimace.

"Considering the alternative is sleeping with Vanessa, you'd better hope so," Bill snapped, drawing his knees up and preparing for an extended cycling through all the many channels on offer.

Tom reached for Bill's thigh and whimpered when his fingers got slapped. "But, you said I was getting some!"

"Welcome to married life," Bill said, shifting further away on the bed.

He estimated it would be four minutes and thirty-six seconds until he'd crumble against Tom's very effective pout, but he intended to make his Tom suffer for each millisecond of that interval. It was his duty as the closest thing Tom would get to a wife, after all.

Bill would still make sure his twin-spouse would get some, but as with everything in their lives, it would be on _Bill's_ terms.


End file.
